


Let's Be Real

by bovaria



Series: Let's Pretend [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst, Drama, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 04:39:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5814505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bovaria/pseuds/bovaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Let's Pretend". The reader and Dean begin their relationship, as all kinds of things await their future together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Be Real

“Sweetheart,” Dean suddenly paused the movie, glancing up at you from where he had his head resting on your lap.

“Yeah?” you paused the strokes you were giving his hair, meeting his eyes.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked.

“Being that I already finished my novel and sent the manuscript,” you grinned, happy that you had finally gotten that over with. “I’m free!”

“Do you mind us going back to my parents’?”

“Um,” you hesitated. Even though you had been dating Dean for more than three months already, you had kept your relationship to yourselves, apart from Sam and Jess. Deciding to take things slowly, you were only now beginning to trust him more. Going back to his hometown, you were scared of the memories it could bring or the arguments that could surge because of the events that had unraveled.

“I haven’t told my parents about us yet,” he cleared his throat, sitting up to cup your face. “My mom really wanted us to get together and I came clean to them about faking our relationship. I told you about what she did to get me to realize I needed to be with you.”

“Yeah,” you laughed softly.

“We don’t have to go,” he said. “I can always invite them here and we’ll surprise them.”

“No, that’s okay,” you shook your head. “I miss your mom and her cooking. We can go.”

“Are you sure?” Dean questioned and you nodded in response. “Alright, I’ll call my mom and let her know I’m going tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe you haven’t told them,” you said, scoffing and rolling your eyes.

“I want to see her face when she sees you,” he mischievously smiled.

“Dean,” you lightly punched his shoulder, to which he retaliated by chuckling and once again resting his head on your thigh.

The next morning, you wrestled Dean’s phone out of his grasp as he declared that he was going to be the one choosing the music.

“Ha! As if,” you said, snorting once you had his phone in your hands. A picture you had taken with him while out for dinner came up on the screen and you smiled softly.

“You look gorgeous there,” Dean said, sending you a loving look.

“Dean, seriously?” you disapproved. “This picture was after the entire incident with the wine falling on me and—”

“One of the best nights of my life, baby,” he laughed.

“Wasn’t that when we slept together for the first time?” you teased.

“I said _one of_ ,” he pointed out.

“Teasing, teasing,” you said, sending him a wink. “Now, stop pestering me, I’m trying to listen to my music.” He grinned as you started to bob your head to the rhythm of the song, lip syncing to the words.

Mary’s scream made John come running out of the bedroom as she opened the front door. You squeezed her back just as tightly as she did, her lips peppering your cheek with kisses. Dean winced at his mother’s squeals and you joined her after realizing just how much it annoyed him.

“Okay, okay, enough,” he waved his hands.

“Oh, dear, thank you for taking this goof back,” she cupped your face, stroking your cheekbones. “Has he been treating you well?”

“Splendidly,” you said, answering honestly.

“What’s all this ruckus?” John Winchester was clad in a robe after deciding not to do anything but sleep on his day off.

“We’re staying for a few days, dad,” Dean announced. “I mean, if that’s alright with you?”

“Son, this is your home,” John said, scoffing and embracing his son before sharing a hug with you. “Nice to see you, Y/N.”

“Likewise, Mr. Winchester,” you returned his soft smile.

“I see Dean here came back from his little lunatic trip,” he said, winking playfully.

“Okay, seriously, guys,” Dean whined.

“We’re kidding, sweetie,” Mary snickered, squeezing his cheek. “Now, would you guys like to eat pulled pork sandwiches or hamburgers?”

“Hamburgers sound great right now,” Dean tapped his stomach.

“Hamburgers it is, then,” Mary shot him an adoring look before tapping John’s shoulder. “Dear, get to setting up the grill, okay?”

John gave her a kiss in response and you looked on with a smile as Dean hid his face in your hair.

“Oh, grow up,” you said, pinching his side.

“Come on,” he ignored your remark, grabbing both your duffel bags. “Let’s get upstairs and rest before lunch is ready.”

He led the way to his room, where things had been left untouched since you last had seen it. You spotted your hairband lying on the night stand and smiled to yourself, walking over to it and wrapping it around your wrist.

“I looked all over for this,” you remarked, snapping it softly on your skin.

“Let’s unpack later,” Dean said, wrapping arms around your waist and dragging you down with him as he collapsed on the mattress. You yelped as Dean’s deep laughter resounded, his lips seeking yours out to press a slow, deep kiss to yours.

By now, you knew your way around Dean’s body, hands interlocking behind the nape of his neck and pulling him close. Your jaw parted to allow his tongue to begin his re-exploration of your mouth as your fingers stroked through his dirty blond hair.

Dean’s breathing deepened, nostrils flaring as his hand quested down your frame until his fingers were digging into the flesh of your thighs, bringing your leg to snake around his waist. Moving together, he brought you to straddle his hips, your own jerking down and teasingly feeling just how much being close to Dean affected him.

“S-sweetheart,” he groaned, the gruffness of his voice making your hairs on an end.

“Did—” you peeled yourself away from his lips, tempted to dive back in for more after seeing his hooded eyes and how swollen his mouth was from your kisses. “Did you—” you swallowed thickly. “L-lock? Did you lock?”

“Y-yeah,” Dean nodded his head before his fingers were gripping your face and bringing you down to him. Clashing against one another, your mouths continued the feverish kisses, the air becoming thick and hot.

For a long time, you remained on top of Dean, enjoying his firm body beneath you, each muscle moving as he explored every inch of your frame. His calloused fingers made shivers run up your spine when they stroked against the nape of your neck, squeezing your breasts through your shirt. Thumbing your hard nipples through the top you had worn, you were about rip your clothes off when a knock resounded.

“Food’s ready!” John’s voice traveled into the room. You had known that the door was locked, but you still jumped away from Dean, ending up on the floor in a frenzy of limbs and clothes half-pulled off.

“W-we’ll be right there, dad,” Dean said, before turning towards you. “Are you alright, Y/N?”

“Y-yeah,” you laughed softly. “I’m fine. Maybe that was a sign to not mess around in your parents’ house, Dean.”

“Come here,” he said, offering his hand to pull you up onto the bed once again. He kissed your cheek before his eyes flitted towards your lips. You were tilting your head when his stomach grumbled loudly.

“Okay, okay, let’s go eat,” you said, laughing and pulling away from Dean to get on your feet. He joined your mirth with his own deep chuckles, taking your offered hand and walking downstairs beside you.

“What do you two have planned out for today?” Mary inquired during lunch.

“Well,” Dean swallowed the bite of hamburger he had been working on for the last half minute. “Um, I was thinking on going to the car dealership,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe get the Impala I’ve always wanted.”

“Oh, yeah, you’ve told me about that,” you said, wiping at the corners of your mouth. “The black, Chevy Impala from 1967, no? That car is gorgeous, Dean.”

“Dean here has been fantasizing about owning it since he was but a kid,” John smiled softly at his son. “You finally have the money saved up for it, son?”

“Yeah, _finally_ ,” Dean said, grinning widely. “Wanted to see if Singer could give me a good deal on it.”

“Good luck, sweetie,” Mary said, standing up from the table and beginning to pile up the dirty dishes as everyone finished their meals. You were making to help her clean everything up when you felt Dean’s arm wind around your waist.

“Let’s go,” he said, kissing your cheek.

“You kids have fun, I’ve got this,” Mary said, winking at the both of you.

“Thanks, mom,” Dean shot her a grin before pulling you with him to the front entrance of the house.

A few minutes later and you were both slamming the doors of the car closed. You snuck a glance at Dean, who looked silently elated as he faced the dealership. He paused right before the glass doors, swaying back and forth on the balls of his feet before taking a deep breath.

“Come on,” you said, sliding your hand down his forearm and intertwining your digits with his. Squeezing comfortingly, he offered you a grateful, tiny smile as he reached to open the glass door.

“Dean Winchester!” an older man emerged from his office. “Are you here to finally purchase your dream car?”

“Bobby! Hey,” Dean said, pulling away from you to embrace the man. “Yeah, I’m here just for that.”

“About time, boy,” Bobby said, his eyes landing on you. “And who might this be?”

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N,” he said, gesturing for you to step closer. “Y/N, this is Bobby, the dealership’s owner.”

“Hello, nice to meet you,” you shook Bobby’s hand.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Y/N,” he said, giving you a gentle smile. “Now, kids, what do you say we talk cars and business?”

“Sorry, Bobby, selling the car,” a young man in his mid-twenties looked quite apologetic as he stepped out of the cubicle next to Bobby’s.

“Who’s thinking on buying it?” Bobby asked, eyebrows raised.

“This gentleman right here,” the man said, stepping to the side.

“Mark?” Dean said, voice lacing with disbelief.

“Hey-ah, Dean-o,” Dean’s cousin smirked malevolently.

* * *

“Well, that’s too bad,” Bobby said, glaring at Mark, who looked affronted by Bobby’s rough demeanor. The man was usually nice with him, but today was an exception. Dean was after all his favorite of the Campbell’s. “Dean here has been striving to buy this car for years, boy. It’s not for sale.”

“Are you kidding me, Bobby?” Mark scoffed, taking a step forward, chest jutting out menacingly.

“You know very well your cousin wants this car,” Bobby said, raising his hands signaling that he didn’t want any altercation with Mark.

“You always do this,” Mark turned to Dean, gritting his teeth, face red with ire. “You always take shit away from. Ever since we were little kids, whatever Dean wanted, Dean got. Even if it had to be taken away from me.”

“Mark—” Dean said, trying to appease him.

“No, it’s always been like this,” Mark’s voice was low, dangerous. “Even in high school, when I told you that I liked Lisa, I told you I fucking liked her, man. You laughed and said she was going to be great for me. And then you went behind my back and stole her from me.”

“Hey, she wasn’t yours to be stolen from,” Dean spat. “She came unto me, Mark.”

“Oh, but what did you? You didn’t tell her that I was interested in her. Instead you went ahead and fucking dated her!” Mark’s screamed. By now, everyone in the building was focused on the two cousins.

“It’s not like I fucking could!” Dean protested. “I fell in love with her!”

“You were never one to accept your wrongs, either,” Mark scoffed before glancing behind Dean’s shoulder, his eyes landing on you. “You never take responsibility for any of the shit you do. I had to fucking put Lisa back together after you left town with only a goodbye letter to her! I was her fucking rebound, Dean. Just like Y/N is your rebound!”

“Y/N is not my rebound,” Dean said, voice shaking as he pointed an index finger at Mark.

“Oh, that’s what you’re telling her?” Mark laughed humorlessly. “Did you also forgot to mention that it was Lisa that dumped you this time around? Did you tell her that, Dean? That you couldn’t break up with her and she was the one who did? That you left town miserable and it wasn’t a surprise to her when you went back to Y/N?”

“You don’t know anything, Mark,” Dean said, voice trembling. “So, I suggest you shut the fuck up before I knock your fucking teeth in.”

“Of course,” Mark laughed, arms held out. “Take it out on me. Dean-o using violence again, aw. Because he knows I’m right.”

“Okay, I think it’s time you leave, boy,” Bobby signaled for the security guards to begin escorting Mark out of the building. Without another word, Mark turned on his heels and walked out of the dealership, leaving an awkward tension behind. Dean inhaled sharply as you turned towards Bobby with a tiny, fake smile.

“Maybe we should get started with buying the Impala, Mr. Singer,” you said.

“Yes, yes, of course, kids,” Bobby rushed towards his office, motioning the two of you to go with him.

“Y/N,” Dean turned to you as you followed Bobby’s lead.

“Don’t, Dean,” you shook your head. “Let’s talk after you buy the car, okay?” Without giving him a chance to really answer you, you began to make conversation with Bobby as he got all the paperwork ready for Dean.

Within two hours, Bobby was shaking Dean’s hand as he handed him the keys. Prompting him to take good care of the car, Bobby opened the passenger’s side for you and you thanked him with a soft smile as you climbed in. Dean got into the driver’s seat without a word and was soon pulling out of the dealership’s driveway and onto the town’s main street, heading back to his parents’ house.

You didn’t say a word, crossing your arms and looking out the window, occasionally smiling at little kids walking down the street with their parents, excitedly holding ice creams and chatting animatedly with the adults. Dean kept stealing glances at you, his grip tight on the steering wheel. When he pulled up to the house, you walked out of the car without another word to him, prompting Dean to quickly clamber out of his new car and chase after you. He gripped your elbow tightly and turned you around.

“Hey, what Mark said—”

“Is it true?” you pursed your lips. “Because the way you heartlessly dumped me back then and went to her, how it took you so long to supposedly discover that you loved me, it’s kind of easy to believe Mark, Dean.”

“Y/N,” Dean began.

“It’s a simple yes or no question,” you said. “Did you, or did you not, break up with Lisa? Because if I recall correctly, you told me that she threw a fucking angry fit. That she threw a vase at you. Was any of that true?”

“I can explain,” Dean held out his hand.

“Oh, my God,” you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Lisa saw I wasn’t happy with her!” Dean protested. “She knew I loved you, so when I got home that day she said that it was over between us, that I should go tell you that I loved you.”

“Then why in the fucking hell did you tell me that you had dumped her?!” your voice was rising in tandem to your fury. “Why did you lie to me?”

“How the hell am I supposed to tell you: ‘Oh, hey, the only reason I’m here is because my girlfriend dumped because she knows I love you.’ How, Y/N?”

“Oh,” you pronounced loudly. “So without her help we wouldn’t be standing here? Is that what you’re saying? That you rather be unhappy with Lisa than ‘happy’ with me?” you quoted with your fingers.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Y/N,” Dean groaned in frustration.

“It is _exactly_ what you’re saying,” you crossed your arms over your chest, angry tears threatening to brim over. You sniffled and held them back, clearing your throat. “I can’t believe you’d lie to me like that. Tell me, are you with me only because you felt bad for me?”

“No, of course not, Y/N. How can you think that, sweetheart?” he whined softly. You shut your eyes, shaking your head. Having him call you that, it hurt you.

“I will never amount to what Lisa has been for you,” your voice trembled. “I’m going home.”

Slipping from his grasp, you walked into the Winchester home and grabbed Dean’s old car keys from a table near the entrance. Careful not to make any noise that would have John and Mary bustling out of the kitchen, you quickly climbed up the stairs and hastily put all your clothes back in your suitcase. You sighed in relief when you realized that Dean hadn’t followed you inside and made your way downstairs, dashing out of the front entrance. Dean was where you had last left him.

“Tell your parents ‘thank you’ for everything,” you mumbled. “And don’t call me. If anything, I will call you.”

“Y/N,” Dean muttered.

Ignoring him, you shoved your suitcase into the trunk and climbed into the car. You avoided hitting Dean’s new car by a few inches as you peeled out of the driveway, not chancing a glance towards Dean. Once out on the main highway, you let yourself go, crying freely as you evaded cars and running into anyone else.

It was a wonder you got home alright, carelessly parking Dean’s car by the curb and throwing his keys across the street. You knew it was petty of you, but it felt incredibly satisfying and with a smirk, you dragged your suitcase behind you and walked into your building.

For the first time in years, you used the various locks that your dad had had installed on your front door out of paranoia for his daughter. Dean had a key to your apartment and you didn’t really want him walking inside, so you resorted to the extra security, silencing your phone as you realized that you had a dozen missed calls from Dean.

Feeling numb and not really knowing what to do, you decided to check your e-mail. Tapping your fingers rhythmically on your laptop as the page loaded, the first unread email didn’t fully register on you until you had read the subject title two times over. Your eyes widened and you gasped loudly. It was one of the publishing companies you had sent your manuscript to. Fingers trembling in excitement, Dean long gone from your mind, you clicked to expand the letter.

Your book was being published! The editor had loved it and wanted to meet you at their headquarters in New York by tomorrow. His secretary asked if you were going to be able to make the meeting and to call to confirm by tonight. You grabbed your phone, swiping your thumb across the screen and ignoring Dean’s calls, dialing the number the editor’s assistant had provided for you in the email.

“Hello, you’re calling Clarks Publishing, how can I help you today?” a sweet voice came through.

“Good evening, I’m calling on behalf of an email I received,” you cleared your throat nervously.

“Miss Y/N,” the woman excitedly asked.

“Yes, that’s me, hello.”

“Good evening! We have been waiting for your call,” the woman said. “Will you be able to make it tomorrow?”

“Yes,” you immediately responded. “I’ll be there tomorrow, thank you.”

“You will be meeting with Mr. Brooks and Mr. Lowell tomorrow at noon,” she informed.

“Thank you,” you smiled widely.

“Thank _you_ , Miss Y/N, we’re looking forward to see you. Have a great night,” she said before hanging up. You squealed excitedly, grabbing your phone and beginning to dial Dean’s phone. It wasn’t until you were about to press the green button to make the call when you remembered this afternoon’s arguments. With a new wave of pulsing anger flowing through you, you huffed and made your way into your room, picking out a few outfits that you felt were fancy enough to wear while meeting with the people that had your future in their hands.

Within minutes, you had everything packed, being that you had all your essentials in the suitcase you had brought back from John and Mary’s house. You grabbed your car keys from your drawer and walked out of your apartment. For a second you considered to call Dean, let him know what had just happened, but you shook your head, chastising yourself for even thinking of it.

The drive to the airport was quick and easy. You parked in a lot that allowed for travelers to leave their cars for up to a month and quickly put the ticket they gave you into your wallet. The airline’s clerk was friendly and widely smiled at you as you asked for the fastest ticket to Manhattan, offering you a first-class one, being that it was the only one they had for the next plane that departed.

“I’ll give it for you at the price of a regular economy class,” she winked.

“Thank you,” you beamed, continuing to thank her as she handed you your boarding pass and passport back.

You excitedly made your way through security and to your designated gate, ignoring the dark, nagging feeling at the back of your head. No matter how betrayed you felt by Dean, you still felt like you were doing him wrong by not telling him about this wonderful opportunity. Yet you waved it away and boarded the plane, setting your phone on airplane mode, ignoring every single call and text he had made to you.

* * *

Your arrival to New York City was faster than you thought. Having fallen asleep on the way there, you jumped in surprise at the polite shoulder-shake the flight attendant gave you. She informed you that the destination had been reached and slightly embarrassed, you got your bags and followed her out of the plane.

Getting a taxi to your hotel was fast, as there was a line of people outside the airport waiting to get into cabs that lined up the entire driveway that led to the building’s main doors. You gave the driver the name of your hotel and sat back, eyes opened wide to admire the buzzing city of Manhattan. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the lights and bustling of the people as they walked through the streets, one individual never the same as the next one you saw. The city was magnificent and you realized why it was one of the most famous in the world.

You turned to your left, hand reaching out for nothing. Once your brain registered that you were grasping at air, you turned your head, puzzled. Sadness filled you as you understood what you had done. You had wanted to share these breathtaking moments with Dean. He would have been as excited as you were at seeing Manhattan unfold before you. You gnawed on your bottom lip and ignored the hurt in your chest, opting to just focus on Times Square, as it was coming up.

“Your hotel will be right after Times Square,” the driver informed you. You nodded your head, in awe of the most famous of streets, slightly overwhelmed by the lights and advertisements being fired at you simultaneously.

You soon reached the end of the Times Square and soon the taxi was pulling up to the hotel you were staying at. It was a beautiful building you smiled at the taxi driver as you paid him his dues and a hefty tip. He thanked you with a wide grin before climbing out of the vehicle to get your baggage out of the trunk.

The hotel’s bellboy took the luggage from the driver and you smiled at the young man in greeting. He welcomed you in and directed you towards the front counter. The staff was friendly as they checked you into your room and soon you were collapsing facedown onto the mattress. It was already 4am and you had a 9am meeting at the publishing company.

You groaned petulantly at the thought of only getting to sleep three hours. You had to get up extra early to get ready and have some spare time left just in case you got lost or something happened. You wanted to be early at your meeting and quickly shuffling through your belongings, you grabbed a pair of pajamas and your toothbrush.

Cozy and comfortable under the covers, you couldn’t help yourself as you reached for your cellphone, deactivating the airplane mode you had set it on. You swallowed at the text messages and voicemails Dean had left you. Not wanting to hear them anytime soon, you placed your phone on the nightstand facedown and closed your eyes. You were asleep in no time.

You concluded that the heavens were smiling down upon you as you made it to your meeting with thirty minutes to spare. You were directed towards a conference room with vast windows that displayed a great view of Manhattan from 40 floors above. You walked up to the glass in admiration, eyes roving slowly across the expanse of the city.

“Good morning, Ms. Y/L/N,” a voice made you start and you turned on your heels with a wide-eyed look on your face. “Sorry, I must have—” the man’s sentence died on his throat as he recognized you. “Y/N?”

“Max?” you gasped. “Oh, my—” you met in the middle of the room, embracing each other tightly after not seeing one another for almost ten years.

“Wow, you look great,” he pulled you away at an arm’s distance, hands tight around your upper arms. “How are you?”

“I’m doing pretty awesome, how are you?” you grinned, noting with surprise just how handsome he looked. He had never been on the ugly side, always luring in girls with his grey eyes and dark hair. He was the definition of tall, dark and handsome, and you had been the girl he had set his eyes on during his college years.

Max and you had dated for five years as you both obtained your English degrees together, only to break up once Max managed to get a job at a publishing company right after graduation. Your ambitions weren’t to be an editor, so you stayed behind to write and hopefully make your career through your words.

“I should have known that book was written by you,” he laughed softly. “It was phenomenal. One of my favorites in the hundreds we get every month.”

“Well, I’m glad to know you like it,” you let him lead you to the table and thanked him as he held out a chair for you to sit on.

“I _loved_ it,” he said, gracefully sitting down next to you. You tried not to look at the broadness of his shoulders and just how great he looked in a suit. You had seldom seen him so dressed up when you dated him. Usually, he’d opted for a casual look, but that was because he was a student, not an employee for one of the most famous publishing companies in the country.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely. Max smiled in the way you had always loved when you were dating him. Whenever he grinned like that, you usually would end up kissing him silly and your mind took you back to those memories. Max’s brain seem to have done the same thing because next thing you knew, the two of you were clearing your throats awkwardly and glancing around the room nervously.

The tension was soon diffused as two more people came walking in. One of them was an older gentleman and his companion was a woman that seemed to be in her mid-thirties. They were both as dressed up as Max and you got on your feet as they approached.

“Well, I see that Max has already become acquainted with our new author,” the man smiled at Max fondly, yet shaking his head.

“I’ll have you know, Lowell, that Y/N and I have known each other for years,” Max said.

“Oh, no wonder you were vehement on having me look at the manuscript,” Lowell had a teasing glint in his eyes and you turned to Max with a raised eyebrow.

“Lowell likes to tease,” Max chuckled.

“Sure,” you shot back.

“Anyways,” Max changed the subject. “Kyle Lowell, this is Y/N Y/L/N,” Max introduced. “And Y/N, this is Kyle Lowell, VP of Clarks Publishing.”

“Nice to make your acquaintance, Ms. Y/L/N,” Lowell shook your hand firmly.

“Likewise, Mr. Lowell. You can call me Y/N,” you grinned.

“Alright, Y/N,” he said with an air of ease that had you feeling immediately comfortable with him. You had the feeling that you were going to have a pleasant experience with the company. “Let’s get started.”

You took a seat next to Max and across from Lowell. All the while, you were keenly aware of how close Max leaned to you, his forearm constantly grazing yours. At one point, you dropped your pen and he picked it up for you, his fingers stroking against your palm longer than they should have remained in order to drop the pen into your hand. You swallowed thickly and your mind quickly presented you with a picture of Dean’s face.

Avoiding Max’s eyes for the rest of the meeting, you found that Clarks Publishing were more than eager to publish your novel and soon you’d be looking at an official copy of your book. There were already talks of book tours and you couldn’t deny the excitement you felt at the thought. Your dream was coming true.

You found it unsettling that it was Max next to you, not Dean.

“So, are you excited?” Max turned to you once the meeting had concluded. Lowell had left the conference room with his secretary to be present at another meeting and you remained behind with Max, trying to absorb just what had happened to you. Your book was finally getting published!

“Yes! Oh, my God,” you pulled your head back and laughed. “I can’t believe it!”

“Congratulations, Y/N,” Max took your hand and squeezed it. “You deserve it,” his eyes bore into yours and you found yourself pulling away from him, guilt overcoming you.

“Uh, I have a call to make,” you muttered, grabbing your purse and notebook before fleeing the room.

You reached into your purse for your phone and unlocked the screen. Your throat tightened at the new barrage of messages and missed calls from Dean. Taking a deep breath, you pressed the call button next to his icon. He answered within the first ring.

“Y/N! Y/N are you alright?” his voice was frantic and you felt slightly guilty at the worry you must have caused him.

“Y-yeah, Dean, I’m fine,” you answered in a clipped tone. “Just had to fly out to New York City last night.”

“What? You’re in New York?” he asked in a high-pitched voice that made you smile despite your creeping anger. Dean had no right to be worried and act mad when the last time you had talked he had basically confessed to only coming back to you when Lisa had dumped him, even though he had told you a completely different story just a few months back.

“Yes,” you answered him. “Clarks Publishing called me in for a meeting and my book will be getting published.”

“W-wow, honey!” he exclaimed despite himself. “That’s great! Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” you found yourself smiling softly at Dean’s elation.

“You could have at least called to tell me what happened,” he said in a forlorn voice.

“I was—No, I’m _still_ mad at you,” you declared. “So, we’ll talk when I get back in a week.”

“A _week_?!” he exclaimed.

“Yes, Dean. Now, I have to go, I’ll call you whenever I can,” you clicked on him without giving him a chance to talk back to you.

You turned on your heels and jumped at Max leaning against the wall just a few feet away from you. He shot you an intrigued smile, arms crossed over his firm chest. He had gotten rid of his suit jacket, the sleeves of his dress shirt folded up to his elbows. You berated yourself for staring and looked into his eyes instead.

“Dean?” Max smiled precariously. “Boyfriend?”

“Yes,” you answered.

“Wow, that never crossed my mind,” he laughed to himself.

“Look, Max, thank you for everything,” you began.

“No, don’t—” he waved your words away. “Um, just—will you allow me to take you around the city? From my understanding, my secretary told me that you got here in the middle of the night. So, I’m guessing you haven’t been around yet.”

“No, but that’s okay, I can—”

“Nonsense,” he scoffed, walking up to you with his hands now shoved into the front pockets of his dress pants. “Let me take you out to my favorite places, you’ll love them,” he suggested in a soft voice. You were quickly taken back to the moments you’d fight with him but he’d soon make you forget everything by whispering sweet nothings into your ear with that same tender tone.

“O-okay,” you found yourself answer. Max’s smile was blinding and you grinned, following him towards the elevators.

It turned out that Max wasn’t exaggerating when he told you that you’d like the places he would take you to. You thoroughly enjoyed your trip into the New York Public Library, jaw slack as you took in the thousands of books available to its guests. Max didn’t take his eyes away from you as he followed you through the endless rows, your fingers softly stroking against the spines. Occasionally, you’d stop to take out a book from its shelf and skim through it. Max smiled softly at this, glad to know you hadn’t lost your love for literature. It had been one of his favorite things about you.

Once the tour of the library was over, Max took you out to eat to one of his favorite restaurants. The Balthazar Restaurant located in Soho and already bustling with people due to its fame, was delicious and you complimented Max in his taste for great food.

“Hey, living in the city gave me impeccable taste for food,” he winked playfully.

“And also a penchant for being cocky,” you teased. He pulled his head back and laughed heartily at your remark. You glanced down at your lap, fingers playing with the corner of your napkin.

“Alright, now this next place is somewhere small,” Max leaned towards you, smile playing on the corners of his lips. “But the fact that it’s quite hidden makes it that more beautiful. It was one of my favorite places to go, it still is, when I want some time alone.”

“Can’t wait to see it,” you said sincerely.

Max paid the check despite your protests, insisting that it was no problem for him. You rolled your eyes and promised that the next meal would be on you. His eyes twinkled at this and you cleared your throat. How could you so nonchalantly suggest for another meal with Max? You internally groaned but ignored your conflicting emotions as Max placed his hand on your lower back and walked with you out of the restaurant.

The walk to Max’s favorite hangout was short. Hidden between two large buildings, this small café-bookstore immediately took your breath away as you stepped into it. Soft jazz played from the speakers and a tiny woman peeked out from one of the bookshelves, arms laden with leather-bound antiques that you would have killed to own.

“Welcome to Alleyway Books,” she said with a smile. “Anything I can do to help?”

“We’re just looking around, thank you,” Max answered. She nodded and focused back on her work. You stepped towards a specific bookshelf labeled historical fiction and gasped at your favorite classics there. They were all first editions and you could only begin to guess the staggering prices they’d be worth.

“The great thing about this place,” Max interrupted your thoughts as he took one book from its resting place. “Is that the owner offers these at a decent price. They’re authentic first editions but anyone can think of buying them.”

And just like he had promised, you glanced at the price tag attached to it, surprised to see the price. It was only thirty dollars. Usually these books went for hundreds and you realized that you were going to be buying as many books as you could to take back home with you.

Max helped you pick out your favorites ones and soon you were both laughing as he helped you carry them towards the front counter. The girl was now behind the register, politely waiting for the two of you. She greeted you once again before beginning to input the numbers into the outdated machine. You glanced around the place and realized that everything seemed to have gotten stuck in the 90s, but it was what made the tiny bookstore authentic.

“Want some coffee?” Max questioned as you were handed the carefully packaged books once you had paid.

“Sure,” you smiled and followed him towards the opposite end of the small store.

Conversation flowed easily between the two of you as your drank your lattes. Max and you reminisced on whatever memory you happened to stumble into as you talked. You remembered your first time meeting him, rolling your eyes at his cocky demeanor and Max being intrigued by you, a girl that paid no attention to his advances. You remembered the funny antics you went through because of Max’s tendency to wanting to get into trouble. You held happy memories of your college years because of Max and you found yourself loving the comfort and familiarity he offered you.

Dean would often appeared in your thoughts, but your anger at him was quick to chase him away. You knew that he must have called you throughout the day, but you refused to look at your phone out of spite. You were having quite a pleasant day and you weren’t going to let Dean ruin it just yet. You’d worry about him when you got to the hotel and called him.

Around 7pm, you expressed your wishes in wanting to get back to your hotel. It had been a long, previous night and an even longer day. You had walked more than you were comfortable with and Max teased you briefly at your lack of exercise. You had never been one to be overtly fond of it.

You tried to persuade him otherwise, but Max was insistent in accompanying you to your hotel. You walked next to him at a leisurely pace, having long ago allowed him to carry your books in his arms. He continued to make conversation about whatever subject he could think of and you constantly laughed at his ridiculous jokes.

The bellboy on shift smiled at the two of you as you walked into your hotel. You were turning to say goodbye to him when your world froze.

Standing up from a couch offered to the guests in the lobby was Dean, green eyes wide with surprise and something akin to anger.

“D-Dean, what are you doing here?”

* * *

The surprise wore off to give way to anger, wave after wave of ire that threatened to tear at your control. Your nostrils flared as you glared at Dean, who wasn’t exactly smiling at you either. His green eyes were cold and his brow was furrowed in ire, you didn’t have to glance down to know that his fingers were clenched in trembling fists. Dean was furious, but so were you.

“Max? You’re with fucking Max when I’m at home worrying about you?” he scoffed.

“Excuse me? You have no right to ask me—”

“I’m your boyfriend, Y/N! I have every damn right.”

“You’re ridiculous, Dean.”

“I’m not the one in another city with my ex,” Dean scoffed.

“No, but you’re the one who lied to the person you supposedly loved,” you spat back. “And only went to them when your ex told you that you weren’t happy with her.”

“I explained myself—”

“You lied to me, Dean,” you gritted your teeth. “Lies don’t go away so fucking easily, especially with such a shitty explanation as yours.”

“But Max, really?”

“Max has nothing to do with us. He’s the editor I’m working with for my novel.”

“Of course he fucking is,” Dean threw his arms in exasperation, glaring at Max, who was just a few feet behind you, making sure to protect you in case something happened. “He’s always been there.”

“Dean, I haven’t seen him in ten years, would you relax? Max and I only talked until—why am I even explaining this shit to you? I don’t owe you jack.”

“I was at home worrying over you!” Dean protested.

“After you _lied_ to me!” your voice was rising and people were already starting to mutter about the two of you. Max tried to smile at them and apologize, but the argument was escalating. “If you’d know anything about me, you know I hate being lied to!”

“What do you want from me?!”

“For starters, fucking apologize to me!” your voice was shrill as it rang throughout the hotel’s lobby. “That’s the least you could have done! You never once said sorry, you only tried to justify your lies—”

“Excuse me,” an older man interrupted your argument, clearing his throat and glancing around before shooting both Dean and you stern looks. “But on behalf of the hotel and its guest, I’d like to ask the both of you—”

“I’m sorry, sir, we’ll get going,” you nodded your head at him, looking chastised before you turned to glare at Dean with cold eyes. “That’s how you apologize to someone, take notes.”

You didn’t give a chance to Dean to say anything else, grabbing Max’s elbow and dragging him out of the hotel with you. You wiped at your cheeks, not surprised to find unbidden tears. You ignore Max’s pitying look and continue to pull him with you down the street and across a busy intersection.

After five minutes of brisk walking, you finally stopped in front of a random clothing store and exhaled deeply. Max stood next to you without saying a word, his hands in his pockets and you could tell he was itching to hug you. After all these years and you still knew him like the back of your hand. You scoffed and shook your head.

Max was making to say something when you looked up at him. “Do you mind if we go to your place?”

“Uh, sure, Y/N,” he smiled softly, resting a hand on your lower back and raising his hand to hail a cab.

His apartment was situated in the heart of the Upper East Side in a building called The Highgate. You shot Max a raised-eyebrow glance and he scoffed, shaking his head. “Wow, Max.”

“Shut up, come on,” he said, laughing softly as you both climbed out of the taxicab. Max handed the driver a few bills and with a hand on your lower back, guided you towards the building’s main entrance. The doorman shot you a friendly smile before greeting Max by name and you marveled at how he hadn’t changed, ever the down-to-earth, charismatic Max you had known and loved so many years ago.

More of the building’s employees greeted Max and you as you walked across the lobby and he replied to each one of them by name. “Wow, Max, you haven’t changed one bit, huh?” you muttered as you stepped into the elevator with him.

“Whatever could you mean,” he smirked, acting nonchalant as you rolled your eyes. He pressed the 20th floor button and the elevator sped upwards.

His apartment was exceptionally beautiful and you stared in awe at the flawless interior design and marveled at how impeccable it was. Max smiled and followed you around, showcasing everything and answering each of your questions. When you had finally sat down on his pristinely white sofa, Max sauntered over to the liquor cabinet and took out a bottle of his finest brandy.

“Yes,” you couldn’t help the groan the made it through your lips. “I do need a drink, how’d you know.”

“It’s not easy to forget you, Y/N,” he said softly as he poured two glasses of the spirit. You bit down on the inside of your cheek as he made his way back to you and sat right beside you, handing you one of the glasses. Your cups clinked and Max winked before bringing it up to his lips, to which you followed suit. The liquid burned on its way down and you hissed pleasantly at the sensation.

The minutes ticked by quietly as Max sat back and left you to your own thoughts. Occasionally, he’d tap his foot, but halt after a few seconds and steal a glance your way. Finally, his lips parted. “Want to talk about it?”

And just like that, the floodgates opened and everything came spilling out. You told Max everything, from the first day Dean had asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend, all the way to you finding out about how he had lied to you. Max listened attentively, not interrupting you and nodding every now and then. When you had finally told him all you could remember, you inhaled deeply and nodded your head. “That’s it.”

He remained silent as you sat next to him, fingers fiddling on your lap nervously and your eyes looking into his, pleading for any word of advice or comfort. After a few agonizing seconds, Max took a deep breath and slowly released it. “I think you need to sleep on it, take a break from everything, focus on other things. He obviously means a lot to you, baby. Instead of going into this hotheaded, maybe you need to wait it out.”

“So, you’re saying—”

“I know that this might sound wrong of me, but you’re welcomed to stay here for the night,” he said, smiling softly at you. “We could go out tomorrow to Central Park and walk around, you can think about everything.”

“Okay,” you immediately answered.

“You sure?” there was still doubt in Max’s eyes, but you could see the tiny flicker of hope and you grinned up at him, nodding your head.

“Yes.”

“Great, I’ll get the guest room ready for you. Stay here,” he tapped your knee before standing up and walking out of the living room. You heard him move about the apartment and smiled softly before your eyes flitted down to your opened pursed, lying carelessly by your feet. Your phone screen was flashing and you immediately recognized Dean’s name flashing. You kicked at one of the tabs of your bag to cover the phone and closed your eyes, willing to forget about him for now. You were with Max, and you were intending to enjoy every minute you had with him.

“Alright, room’s ready,” Max stood by the hallway that led to the bedroom, small grin dancing on his lips. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied, giving him a tight-lipped smile and following him to your room. You were about to tell him that you had forgotten all about your clothes back in the hotel room when you spotted a grey shirt and flannel pants folded neatly by the foot of the mattress.

“I know you have your clothes back at the hotel room, but I took the liberty of picking out some of my clothes for you to wear to bed,” he informed you. “There’s also a brand new toothbrush in the bathroom and a towel on the rack if you want to take a shower before going to bed.”

“You’re amazing, Max,” you shot him a grin, resting a hand on his forearm and squeezing slightly.

Max froze at the contact, his grey eyes staring intensely into yours as he leaned forward. You were beginning to let your eyes close when he took in a sharp breath and pulled away, shaking his head profusely. “No,” he muttered.

“What?” you looked at him in confusion.

“No, you l-love him, you can’t kiss me,” he clenched his jaw, his words coming out through gritted teeth.

“Max…”

“What you and I had,” he moved forward once again, voice soft as his hand rose to cup your cheek. “It was amazing, baby. But it was so long ago, and even though I badly want this to continue, I can’t… Not when I saw you look at Dean, the way you talked about him. You never once talked about me like that.”

“Max, don’t,” you could feel your eyes beginning to water.

“You love Dean, Y/N,” he said tenderly. “I know you do. And he loves you back, just the fact that he came here when you were mad at him ought to tell you enough.”

You remained quiet, pondering on Max’s words until the silence became too much for him. He sighed and pulled away from you, smiling softly before announcing that he’d be going to his own room to sleep. “We’ll go out for breakfast tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you shot him a sheepish smile as he closed the door behind himself and you slumped down on the bed, holding your head in your hands as your elbows rested on your knees.

Max was right, you loved Dean, despite him lying to you. Dean had been through so much with you, he had been there for you when no one else had, he knew you as well as he knew himself. You knew that a part of you wanted Max to kiss you, to feel someone else’s lips on your own in order to justify the anger that you felt against Dean, but it was in vain.

You got on your feet, knowing you couldn’t sleep over Max’s home. This’d be the ultimate betrayal to your boyfriend, and you weren’t one to strike back at Dean with the same stone he had tossed at you.

You stepped out of your room, still clad in your day clothes, and knocked on Max’s door. There was momentary shuffling before the lock clicked and the door opened inwards, Max standing right behind it. He took one look at you and knew that you were leaving. He stepped out of his room and joined you in the hallway, taking your hands in his.

“Dean is a very, very lucky man,” he said softly.

“I’m sorry—”

“No, you don’t need to apologize for anything,” Max leaned down to kiss your forehead the way he had done the day he said goodbye to you before leaving for his new job in the city. “I am the one who is sorry for having let you go, sweetie.”

“Thank you, for everything,” you whispered sincerely.

“It was one of the happiest days I’ve had in a very long time,” he embraced you tightly before letting you go. “And don’t worry about your book, it’s still getting published. This won’t change anything.”

“Thank you,” you repeated.

“Now,” he began to push you to the door. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

You gave him one last grateful smile before stepping out of his apartment and dashing towards the elevator. The descent gave you enough time to fish your phone out of your purse and scroll through the twenty something calls Dean had left, along with a voicemail for each one. You pressed on his icon and made the call. He answered within the first ring.

“Y/N! I’m sorry, really, I have been incredibly stupid and—”

“Where are you?”

“A-at the hotel, still…”

“What room number?”

“508.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yes, wait up for me.”

With that, you hung up on Dean and sighed as the elevator dinged, signaling you had arrived to the lobby. You ran across the room and out the glass doors, waving your hand at whatever cab was driving by. Once you were able to flag one down, you quickly clambered in and told the driver the hotel’s name.

You arrived in just fifteen minutes after the taxi driver weaved expertly through traffic and took you through shortcuts. You gave him a substantial tip once you had pulled up to the hotel and thanked him before climbing out of the car.

Time seemed endless as you waited for the elevator and it seemed longer as you waited to arrive to the fifth floor. You groaned out in exasperation as the numbers beeped on until finally the number 5 was on display.

Finding Dean’s room was no difficult task and you knocked loudly on his door. He didn’t make you wait, flinging it open wide.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “I’m sorry about everything, about lying to you, and then not apologizing to you, I’m sorry that I’m so stupid to not realize that you’re the love of my life and that I belong with you, I’m sorry I’m so thickheaded—”

You had been muttering his name, trying to get him to stop speaking, but Dean continued to ramble on until you finally screeched out his name. “Dean! Stop, okay, stop talking!”

“I’m just—”

“Oh, shut up. Apology accepted, we’ll talk later,” you flung yourself at him, your arms wrapping around his neck and pressing your lips firmly on his. He didn’t seem to be expecting this, staggering back in surprise, his green eyes wide. Nonetheless, he was quick to react and his arms came to surround your waist and pull you close. He began to kiss back with fervor, his tongue swiping at your lips before plunging into your mouth.

You pulled away from him to make sure that the hotel door was closed behind you and to pull him with you to the bed. Once you were standing right next to it, you smiled up at him, cupping his cheek. “I love you, Dean.”

“And I love you,” he responded, leaning into your touch, turning his head to kiss your palm.

You slowly undressed each other, lips sliding against warm skin as you climbed into bed in just your underwear, his legs tangling with your own under the sheets. Dean made slow love to you that night, making you gasp against his breathless kisses and muttering against your skin just how much he had missed you.

You knew that despite everything you had been through and what you were sure lied ahead of you, Dean was the one you were meant to be with. You inwardly thanked Max for giving you that one last push towards Dean and focused on those beautiful green eyes, bearing all the love they could hold for you with stares that could drown you in feelings that you had yet to explore.


End file.
